


The love of damaged men

by Coriaria



Series: The love of damaged men [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Anal Sex, Angst, Bottom Severus Snape, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Smut, Trauma, filthy filthy smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-08-25 04:23:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16654192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coriaria/pseuds/Coriaria
Summary: Far from the eyes of the magical world, Moody and Snape live a quiet life on the island of South Uist, free from the demands of duty, dark lords and dunderheads. But, no matter how far they've gone, they can't escape their old wounds.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All recognisable characters are the property of JKR, of course. No profit is involved, this is just for my own, and hopefully your, amusement.

“Come on, old man, you’re nearly there.”

Snape had stopped, perhaps only twenty feet from the top. He leaned over with his hands on his knees, his back rising and falling as his lungs fought for air. His hair was plastered to his neck with sweat. Of course, if he didn’t insist on wearing those stupid robes whenever he went outside, he might find it easier.

Moody began walking back down the path. By the time he reached him, Fen and Murdo were licking Snape’s face, while he tried to push them away rather half-heartedly. He was still doubled over and gasping for breath.

“You alright, Severus?”

Moody rested a hand on the heaving back. Snape was idiotic enough to push himself to the point of collapse in his determination to prove he was alright. Moody didn’t think he’d reached quite that point, but he was concerned enough to check. If Snape expired from exhaustion after living with Moody for only a month, Lupin would be insufferable.

“If I’m… an old man…” Snape said, stopping after every couple of words to draw breath, “what… what does that… make you? A… fossil?”

“Aye,” Moody replied, relieved that Snape had energy to bite back. “But I’m a fit fossil. C’mon. If you can’t walk I’ll carry you.”

Snape pushed himself upright and began to walk again. He managed to get himself in front of Moody, walking in the middle of the path so that Moody couldn’t pass him and was forced to match his slow pace. When he reached the top, he fell to his knees and flopped over into the grass. Murdo and Fen did the same. Moody eased himself down more slowly. His missing leg seldom held him back, but he did find it difficult to kneel. He pulled out a bottle of water and handed it to Snape.

“It wasn’t really that bad, was it? Easaval’s not that high.”

Snape was silent for a moment while he guzzled water.

“I thought you were trying to kill me.”

“Now you’re just being daft. If I wanted to kill you I’ve got a dozen better ways. For a start, I could have made you walk up Hecla. Or I could have put something in that water.”

Snape passed the bottle back to Moody, a faint smirk on his face. Moody drank, before conjuring a bowl and placing it down for Fen and Murdo.

“Fortunately for you, Snape, I’m getting used to have that scowling face of yours around. I might even have got rather fond of it.”

“It’s not my face you’re fond of, you pervert.”

“I am fond your arse, true enough.”

Moody shifted himself across so his hip was touching Snape’s. He brushed a few strands of sweaty hair from the still-flushed cheeks, then lowered himself down until he was resting on one elbow. He leaned in and brushed his lips against Snape’s, once, twice and then a third time, the last more lingering. He felt the body against him stiffen, and then Snape turned his head away.

Moody sat up. They’d been all over each other since the day Snape had arrived. Well, it was more that Moody couldn’t keep his hands off Snape, but the younger man was an enthusiastic participant and even beginning to initiate their contact with more confidence. It wasn’t like him to react that way.

“What’s the matter, Severus?”

“There are people around.”

“What? There’s nobody for miles.”

“What about those hikers?”

“They passed us nearly an hour ago. Given the pace they were walking, they’ll be in Ludag by now.”

Snape glared at him and Moody rolled his good eye.

“What a modest little maiden you are. Does it really matter if a couple of hikers see us?”

Now Snape blushed scarlet and looked away, scowling. The hikers, Moody realised, had been the first people other than himself that Snape had seen in the month he’d been staying at the cottage. He’d refused to meet Moody’s daughter, or son-in-law, or any of their children. Perhaps Snape just wasn’t ready to face people yet.

“Oh, alright then,” Moody said. “Take a look at the view, since you’ve walked all the way up here, then we’ll apparate somewhere a bit more secluded.”

Snape rolled away from Moody and began getting up. Suddenly he let out a startled sound and began crawling across the grass and rocks. Moody had his wand out in a flash.

“What is it, Snape?” he hissed.

“It’s _Ajuga pyramidalis_. I’ve never seen it wild before.”

“What?”

Snape was now lying beside a clump of purple flowers, lovingly holding a stem between his fingers.

“The pyramid bugle. Pomona used to grow it, but I’ve never seen it growing wild. Used in Sober-up and Dreamless Sleep, among others.”

Moody put his wand away, feeling slightly foolish.

“That thing? It grows all over the hills past where the sheep graze.”

“Really? Would I be able to harvest some?”

Snape looked up, his eyes bright and not a trace of frown on his face. In spite of himself, Moody felt a grin twitching at the corner of his mouth.

“Don’t see why not. There’s heaps of it. I’ll take you up there, once you get fit enough. Now, come on, stop playing with the flowers.”

Snape stood, then put out his hand to help Moody to his feet, although he pulled his hand away once Moody was upright. Fen and Murdo were already trotting down the path, taking it in turns to look back and check the two men were following. As Snape began walking down the path, Moody after him, both two dogs turned to watch, then began to wag their tails.

When they reached a quiet spot, well back from the track, Moody called to Murdo and grabbed the thick fur on the back of his neck. Snape did the same with Fen, then Moody took his arm and apparated them all back to a field near the cottage.

“I still don’t see why we couldn’t have just apparated there as well,” Snape muttered.

“How are you ever going to get any fitter if you don’t exercise?”

“I am perfectly fine. I am not in need of exercise.”

Moody slapped him on the arm.

“Aye, and I’m not in need of another leg. Do you think I haven’t noticed that you’ve got a chair in your lab so you can sit down while you’re brewing?”

Snape scowled.

“And don’t you want to get your apparation license back?”

The scowl deepened.

“Besides”, Moody continued, sidling closer, “there are other benefits to being fitter. You’d have more stamina for other things.”

Moody lifted his hand to Snape’s shoulder, then slid it behind his neck. His other hand moved to Snape’s hip. He tilted his head slightly and moved in to kiss the downturned lips. Snape stood stiffly for a moment, then surrendered, lips parting, body relaxing, arms slipping around Moody’s waist and his hands shifting down to grip Moody’s buttocks, pulling their hips together.

“I want you,” Moody growled, pulling away from the kiss and beginning to work his way down Snape’s neck. “I want you right here, right now.”

“Outside?” Snape asked, his body tensing.

“Right here, right now,” Moody repeated.

He moved forward, pushing Snape backwards until he was leaning against a stone wall which had once formed part of a sheep pen. Moody began to shift his hips, rubbing their hardening erections against each other through Moody’s kilt and Snape’s absurd number of layers of robes and trousers.

“You want me, don’t you, Severus. I know you want me too. I can feel it. Your hot, hard cock wants me. Your tight hole wants me.”

The sound that escaped Snape’s lips was not a word. It wasn’t even close. It was a strangled whimper, like a desperate puppy. Moody loved that he could drive Snape to incoherence, but there was nothing better than hearing the words.

“Go on, Severus, say it. I want to hear it.”

“Aargh… yes… I want…”

Snape paused to draw a few deep breaths. 

“What do you want?”

“I want… you… your cock. Your… hot, hard, huge cock.”

Moody loved to hear Snape’s refined voice speaking pure smut. Filthy words, from his tongue, sounded as if he was quoting Shakespeare.

“I want you… inside me… feel you… penetrate me… ah…”

“Is that so?” Moody replied, both hands now sliding over Snape’s buttocks. The muscles beneath his fingers trembled slightly, whether in anticipation or because Snape had tired himself out walking up the hill, he wasn’t sure.

“In that case,” Moody continued, his mouth close to Snape’s ear, “turn around and give me your arse.”

He pulled back, looking into the half-closed, dark eyes. Snape was looking back at him, mouth open. Moody leaned in and kissed the slightly swollen, flushed lips, then pulled back and turned Snape to face away from him. He pressed up behind Snape, hitching up the black robes so he could feel the erection without the barrier of two layers of heavy fabric. He unbuttoned the waistband of Snape’s trousers, then slid his hand down until he felt the hardness under his fingers. Snape gasped as Moody closed his hand and slowly slid up and down.

“Say it, Severus, say it.”

“Fuck me, Alastor. I want to feel your prick in my arse. I… I need you… need you to enter me now… need you throbbing and thrusting inside me… need your cock, your huge, hard cock…”

Moody, panting with need, ground his groin against Snape buttocks and wondered if he would come just listening to that voice. He could almost feel… no… that wouldn’t do. He quickly pushed Snape’s trousers and underwear down, just far enough, then hitched up his kilt so they were skin to skin.

“Oh, yes, Al, yes. It’s so huge, so huge and hard and all for me.”

Moody cast a cleaning charm and conjured lubricant onto his hand – he’d long ago learned to do it wandless – then with one finger breached the tight hole. He moved his finger around a little, then quickly followed with another. Snape seemed to need a bit of pain with his pleasure and preferred minimal preparation before Moody penetrated him. Moody certainly didn’t have any objections – he liked it hard and rough as well – but he was always a little cautious, suspecting that Snape wouldn’t yet have the confidence to say if Moody pushed him too far.

“There you are,” Moody growled, “that tight little hole just waiting for me to fill it.”

Snape clenched against his fingers and Moody felt the fingers of his other hand slick with precome as they caressed Snape’s engorged glans.

“Oh, oh Merlin, fuck me now. Fill me, please, Al, please, enter me, need you inside, inside me now, enter m– yes, yes, ahhh…”

With one swift movement, Moody withdrew his fingers, conjured more lube then grasped his throbbing penis. He pressed through the barely loosened ring, reducing Snape’s words to a pained gasp.

“What an eager little arse you have,” Moody said, feeling the muscles clench then release around him. He kept up the pressure, very slowly, feeling Snape yield to him. Occasionally there was a moan or a gasp, and Moody paused, giving Snape time to relax.

Then suddenly, behind him, something cold and wet pressed between his cheeks. He gave a startled yelp and jerked away from the sensation, inadvertently driving his full length deep into Snape’s arse. Moody heard a small cry escape Snape’s lips.

“Fuck, fuck I’m sorry, Sev, didn’t mean to do that. Those bloody dogs.”

He reached around behind him and tried to bat the dog away with the hand that, moments before, had been inside Snape. He felt a warm tongue on his fingers and pulled his hand back.

“Get out of it, you filthy mutt,” he yelled, pushing the dog away from him. He felt Snape flinch underneath him.

“Sorry, Sev, sorry, it’s those stupid fucking dogs, one of them stuck its nose in my crack. Startled me.”

Snape was breathing heavily and Moody reached up to touch his face, before he remembered where his hand had been. Instead, he moved his face close to Snape’s and kissed the flushed cheek. 

“You alright?”

Snape nodded, but the grimace on his face said otherwise.

“No you’re not. I’ll pull out a bit.”

“No, just…”

Snape took another breath and held it, before exhaling slowly.

“It was a bit much,” he finally said. “Just hold still for a minute.”

Moody slid his arm around Snape’s waist and held him as he took slow breaths. Then the cold wet nose was back, with company.

“Argh, it’s both those bloody dogs now. Fuck off you stupid beasts.”

He reached behind and shoved them away. Against his chest, he could feel Snape’s back shaking. For a moment he thought Snape was upset, but then heard a soft chuckle. The unfamiliar sound stopped him in his tracks.

“Severus?”

“The dogs… they… oh Merlin…”

Moody found himself laughing as well.

“First time,” he managed to say, “I’ve… I’ve ever had a… a bloody Border Collie… try to give me a rim job.”

Snape broke into full laughter then and Moody collapsed forward with his chest to Snape’s back. He couldn’t remember when he’d last laughed like that.

“Merlin, Al, that’s… disgusting. I knew… knew you were a bit… fuck… but not that…”

“Aye, you never thought I… was that broad-minded?”

Snape was almost convulsing underneath him now. Moody held tight with an arm around Snape’s waist. They laughed, leaning on the wall, bodies joined, until Moody felt tears in his eyes and he could see that Snape was the same.

“Rim job from… a Border Collie… you… you sick bastard, Al…”

“Well… it wasn’t like I asked… or said yes…”

Moody could feel Snape relaxing around his erection, which had somehow persisted despite the dogs’ best efforts. Slowly, he began to move his hips and Snape’s laughter began to change to something more like whimpers and moans.

“Alright, Sev?”

“Mmm… yes… better than… oh…yes… that’s good…”

Snape shifted his hips back and Moody began to thrust harder, moving one hand to the top of the wall to get more leverage. Snape slid his hand along the wall and placed it over the top of Moody’s. Moody conjured lube into his other hand and reached down to grasp Snape’s now very engorged cock. The movement of their hips slid Snape’s cock back and forth in his hand.

“Merlin, harder, Al… want more… need you to fill me… harder… yes… yes…oh… oh Merlin… aaah…”

Moody began to drive deeper, now hitting Snape’s prostate and reducing him to breathless moaning.

“You feel so good, Sev… so hot… so tight… so good… come for me… come for me, Sev… want to feel you…”

Moody’s thrusts were plunging his prick in so hard that Snape was nearly losing his footing, clinging to the wall and gasping out choked cries. Moody was close, so close, the sound, smell and feeling of Snape’s arousal taking him almost to the edge. Then Snape’s hole began to contract around him and Snape let out a cry which went straight to Moody’s cock. Moody felt the wave build from his balls and then surge through him. Pulses of his hot seed burst from him, filling Snape as he shuddered and spurted his own release.

Breathing heavily, Moody dropped his forehead to rest on Snape’s shoulder. He felt Snape’s body sag beneath him and quickly wrapped his arms around the bony chest.

“You alright there, Severus?”

“Mmmm…. yes…

Moody pushed himself back, his softening cock sliding from Snape’s well-stretched arse. With a wave of his hand – another spell he’d long ago mastered wandless – he cleaned up their mess, before turning Snape around so his back was against the wall. Snape wrapped his arms around Moody’s neck and rested his head on Moody’s shoulder.

“Worn you out, have I?”

“Mmm.”

Snape nodded without lifting his head.

“Need me to carry you back to the cottage, do you?”

Snape pulled his head back and gave Moody an unconvincing glare. He looked far too relaxed to be menacing.

“Come on then,” Moody said, pulling Snape’s underwear and trousers up before smoothing his robes back down. He took Snape’s arm and they headed down the path back to the cottage, while the dogs, who appeared entirely unrepentant, trotted ahead.

By the time they got inside, Snape’s face was starting to look rather grey.

“You need to eat something, Severus. I’ll get some lunch.”

“Not hungry,” Snape replied, flopping onto a sofa and making no effort to stop Murdo draping himself across his lap.

“Broth then,” Moody said.

“I’m not an invalid,” Snape snapped back at him.

“I know,” Moody said, making sure he didn’t roll his eyes. “But I pushed you pretty hard this morning, so it’s my fault you’re feeling worn out.”

Moody retreated to the kitchen, where he heated beef broth and some vegetables that had been cooked with it. He doubted Snape would eat the vegetables, but he’d have some as well, along with the salt herring that Miona’s husband, Uilleam, still caught and prepared himself. Snape hated it, but it reminded Moody of Beathag and her family, and having a ready supply was one of the benefits of living on the island.

When the meal was ready, Moody called Snape through and they sat at the kitchen table. Snape ate most of the broth and grudgingly managed a few pieces of carrot and potato. Moody was relieved – Snape had arrived at the cottage still far too thin. Left to his own devices, Moody suspected, Snape would live on black tea and bread with margarine, or even forget meals altogether. He’d admitted that was what he had done during the summers, when Moody had discovered he had no clue how to cook.

“How can you brew Wolfsbane and not boil an egg,” he’d asked.

“It’s different,” Snape had replied, speaking as if Moody one of his dunderheaded students.

“How can it be different? It’s about putting things in a pot or a cauldron and heating them. The only difference is that Wolfsbane is about a hundred times more complicated.”

“It’s different,” Snape said again, folding his arms and getting a stubborn look on his face. Moody knew better than to try and argue the point.

“How did you survive all these years then? On potions?”

Snape rolled his eyes.

“I never needed to cook at Hogwarts.”

“What about the summers. You always used to spend your summers at Spinners End, didn’t you?”

“I was fine. Plenty of bread and margarine.”

Moody made a face.

“That’s not a balanced diet.”

“What’s wrong with it? That’s what I had growing up. Never did me any harm.”

The expression on Snape’s face had turned distinctly defensive. Moody realised he was heading down a dangerous path. He well remembered the reaction he’d had when he realised Snape’s idea of personal hygiene was to cast _Scourgify_ on himself once a week. He’d quickly discovered that Snape was unaware of the gentler and more effective cleaning charms that most magical children learned from their parents, and Muggleborns picked up from their friends when they started at Hogwarts. When Moody asked why he’d never learned, Snape had come close to hexing him.

“Tea, Severus?” Moody said as he directed the dirty plates to the sink and cast a washing spell.

Snape shook his head and stood.

“I think I might have a sleep,” he mumbled.

Moody nodded. Snape didn’t like to admit it, but he often needed to sleep, or at least rest, in the afternoons.

“Alright,” Moody said. “Just let me do a quick cleaning spell on you before you go to bed.”

Snape glared at him.

“Are you actually concerned that I’m not clean, or is this because you want to sneak a couple of monitoring spells on me?”

“You’re all sweaty from this morning’s walk. You don’t want to go to bed like that.”

“Any you’re not planning any monitoring spells?”

Moody shrugged.

“I’m just going into the bedroom. And this entire place is warded up tighter than Hogwarts. Do you really think it’s necessary to put spells on me to check I’m alright?”

“Humour me,” Moody said.

“You really are a paranoid bastard, aren’t you?”

Moody raised his eyebrows.

“Do you mean to say you've only noticed this now?”

The corner of Snape’s mouth twitched up for a moment, before he gave a sigh.

“Alright, then, Alastor. Consider yourself humoured.”

Moody stood, pointing his wand at Snape. He cast a gentle cleaning spell which vanished the dried sweat from Snape’s body and hair, before adding a charm which would tell him whether Snape was awake or asleep, another which would alert him if Snape felt any anxiety or fear and a proximity spell which would tell him if anyone came within ten metres of him. He then slipped his wand back into his sleeve and took Snape’s hands in his.

“Have a good sleep, Severus,” he said, placing a kiss on the pale lips and another on the top of the dark head.

Snape merely nodded, then turned and walked from the room.

Moody didn’t like to examine why it was that he felt the frozen fingers of fear clutch at him whenever Snape walked out of the room. It was part of a rather unsettling pattern which he’d begun to notice since the former Death Eater had arrived at the cottage – the way he wanted to look after Snape, the way that he imagined terrible things happening to him whenever Snape was out of his sight, the way a room felt warmer and brighter with Snape in it. It had been a very long time since Moody had felt that way, and he found it distinctly disconcerting.

It could only mean one thing, Moody thought. Everything was about to go horribly wrong.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so the angst begins.
> 
> All recognisable characters are the property of JKR, of course. No profit is involved, this is just for my own, and hopefully your, amusement.

The sounds of shattering glass in Snape’s lab was not a good sign. Moody took a deep breath and willed himself not to run in and see what was wrong. He knew that Snape tended to take out his temper on jars of ingredients when he was frustrated. That did not mean, as Snape had made very clear, that he needed Moody to come and rescue him.

Moody had been sure that things were too good to last, and he’d been proved right. Snape’s tolerance for his paranoia had finally run out. The first sign was that Snape would no longer allow Moody to place monitoring spells on him.

“For Merlin’s sake, you paranoid bastard. I’m just going into the next room.”

“Humour me, Severus, please.”

At first, Snape had simply rolled his eyes and accepted it, but now he was more likely to scowl and swear at Moody instead. If Moody tried to sneak a spell on unnoticed – not an easy thing to do to a former spy – Snape would remove it as soon as he detected it.

The result was that Moody felt the need to constantly check on Snape. He’d sit in the bedroom while Snape slept and come up with endless excuses to look in on him in the lab. When he ran out of excuses, he’d just check anyway. His attention had not been welcome.

Snape had started to ward the lab so that Moody couldn’t come in, and sometimes he would put up silencing spells so Moody couldn’t hear what was going on. He tried, he really did, to just let Snape brew his potions in peace while he distracted himself working in the garden or drawing and painting, but it didn’t work. Before too long, he’d be sitting outside the door to Snape’s lab with his guts twisted into a knot of fear.

He told himself it was because there were still far too many Death Eaters unaccounted for, and that there were still many on the side of light who couldn’t forgive him for Dumbledore’s death. But Moody knew it was more than that. He just didn’t want to admit it to himself.

There was a further smash of glass against the wall, followed by a much louder crash and a stream of curses. Moody couldn’t handle it any longer and tried the door of the lab. It was locked, and the lab warded, but Moody unlocked the door and began to dismantle the wards. If Snape was alright, he would come and redo them, but if he wasn’t, Moody could get through in about five minutes.

When he entered the lab, the first thing Moody saw was an upturned cauldron surrounded by a pool of bubbling liquid. The pool hissed and steamed, and was slowly expanding at the edges.

“Severus?” Moody said.

“Fuck off.”

“Severus, I think that the spilled potion is eating through the floor.”

Snape was standing with his hands leaning on one of the benches, head forward, hair hanging over his face. He turned and looked at the potion on the floor, then picked up his wand and cast _Evanesco_. The potion vanished, leaving a patch of pockmarked floor where it had been.

“Severus, what happened?”

Snape said nothing.

“Did you knock over the cauldron?”

“Obviously.”

“On purpose?”

“I made a mistake, it was already ruined.”

“What were you making?”

“Wolfsbane.”

Snape had begun making the Wolfsbane potion almost as soon as he had set up his workroom. It had taken him three attempts before he deemed the potion of sufficient quality to send to the werewolf.

“Lupin will understand if you can’t brew it for him this month, Severus.”

“I wasn’t brewing it for him. I make it because it’s good practice for other potions. I only sent it because it seemed a shame to waste expensive ingredients.”

“Really, Severus? I thought you liked being able to do something nice for one of your friends.”

“Lupin. Is. Not. My. Friend.”

Suddenly Snape was hissing in Moody’s face, wand gripped in his hand and pointed dangerously close to Moody’s neck.

“Alright, Severus, he’s not your friend. But he was very grateful that you brewed it.”

“That’s rubbish and you know it.”

“He was, Severus. When I visitied, he kept saying how kind you were to make it for him. Tonks sent her thanks as well.”

Snape curled his lip in disgust and pulled back from Moody.

“Will you shut up about that bloody werewolf. I don’t want to talk about him any more. If you even mention him within my hearing, I will hex you. do you hear?”

Moody nodded slowly. Snape’s hostility to Lupin was a surprise. He’d actually thought that Snape considered the werewolf a friend. At the hospital, Lupin had baited Snape, and Snape had responded with sarcasm and insults, but neither ever seemed to get hurt. Severus had stayed with Lupin and his family when he’d been released from the hospital, and Lupin had owled Snape to see how he was doing a couple of times since then. And Snape had sent the Wolfsbane potion. Of course Snape had refused to go when the Lupins had asked Moody and Snape to dinner, but that wasn’t surprising. He hadn’t been willing to go and see anyone since he’d arrived on the island.

“Alright, Severus,” Moody said, attempting to make his voice sound calming. “Shall I make tea? It looks like a good time for a break.”

Snape stood in silence, his face a mask. Every muscle in his body was tense as he stared at Moody through narrowed eyes.

“Unless,” Moody said, “you are after something else. You look like you need to relax right now.”

Moody took a step closer, lifting a hand to Snape’s face before kissing him gently. He drew back to see uncertainty on Snape’s face. Then suddenly Snape was kissing him, arms pulling him close, body pressing against him until Moody pushed back with greater force to back Snape up against the wall. He kissed Snape roughly and Snape reached up to grab at his hair. He felt Snape’s hips thrust against his, so he thrusted back harder. Snape gave a muffled moan and pulled his mouth away. He twisted against Moody until he was facing the wall, moving his hips to rub his buttocks against Moody’s erection.

“Fuck me now, Alastor.”

Moody wrapped both arms around Snape’s torso and moved his mouth to Snape’s ear.

“Against the bench, it’s easier on the old bones.”

He began to nibble and bite at Snape’s neck, the side without the horrific scars. Not that he minded the scars, but Snape was still uncomfortable with him touching them. He pulled Snape over to one of the benches. Snape was wasting no time – he was already undoing his trousers and pushing them down to offer Moody his arse.

“Impatient, aren’t you?” Moody said as Snape folded his arms on the bench in front of him and dropped his head onto them. He conjured lubricant and slid his fingers down Snape’s crack.

“Just get on with it,” Snape growled. “I don’t need that messing about.”

Moody was beginning to become uncomfortable with just how rough Snape wanted him to be. He’d inflicted pain on sexual partners before, but that was always at their explicit request and never without careful negotiation and strict boundaries. When Snape began demanding he be rougher and rougher, Moody had tried to have that conversation, but Snape wasn’t willing to talk, or even discuss something as simple as a safe word.

Ignoring Snape’s muttering, Moody slid one then two fingers into Snape’s clenched hole. There was no way he was taking Snape without preparation, not a man that inexperienced and that tight. He moved his fingers in and out, occasionally brushing the prostate and wringing a whimper from Snape’s lips. That was another thing that had changed. Snape no longer seemed to enjoy the filthy talk that Moody loved. He was often almost silent during sex, unless Moody could pry a few moans and whimpers from him.

When Snape had relaxed enough, Moody hitched up his kilt and pressed the leaking head of his erection to the slick entrance. With his arm wrapped around Snape’s waist to steady him, he entered him, slowly penetrating the warm passage, pausing when he felt the body beneath him tense, moving again as he felt it relax. 

“Just… please…. don’t… ”

Moody went still.

“What is it, Severus? Are you alright?”

He lifted up one hand and tucked some of Snape’s hair behind one ear so that he could see his face. But the expression was unreadable.

“Don’t stop… please, just… fuck me hard.”

Moody pulled his hips back slightly, then forward again, not quite a thrust but pushing himself deeper into Snape’s arse.

“More… more, please.”

Snape’s voice was pleading, desperate. Moody shifted back again, this time plunging in harder and faster. He conjured more lubricant into his hand and reached around to grasp Snape’s cock, which throbbed under his fingers. He gave another thrust and heard Snape gasp.

“Oh, you like that do you, Severus?”

The only response was another sharp intake of breath as he thrust again, and then again. His hand moved on Snape’s cock in time with his thrusts, as he slowly increased the pace and depth. Snape had his forehead resting on one arm, panting like one of the dogs after they’d been running. Then a choked cry escaped his lips and he was pulsing hot seed over Moody’s hand. That brought Moody almost to the edge, and with a few more thrusts he was coming too.

Moody let out a long sigh, feeling a few last shudders through his body as his chest flopped against Snape’s back. He pressed a gentle kiss to Snape’s shoulder, before resting his forehead and sighing again. He knew there was something wrong between them, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t the sex.

“I need to get some air.”

Snape twisted out from underneath him and began to pull up his trousers, not even bothering with a cleaning spell.

“Here, hold on,” Moody said, grabbing Snape’s arm and flicking his wand across his body. He did the same to himself while Snape stalked out of the lab and then the back door.

“What’s the matter, Severus?”

Moody hastened after him, finding him leaning against the cottage wall just outside and taking deep breaths.

“Severus? Are you alright?”

“Never better,” Snape snapped back, pushing himself upright and walking quickly down the track towards the beach. Fen and Murdo were beside him almost immediately, tails wagging hopefully.

“Severus, wait, where are you going?”

Moody followed, finding the pace difficult to match. He might be fit, but with his leg he could never walk fast. Realising that Snape was getting further away, he took a breath then apparated himself just a little further down the path. Finding Moody blocking the way, Snape came to a sharp stop.

“Severus, what are you doing?”

“I’m going for a walk. On. My. Own.”

“Severus, you can’t.”

Moody knew that his voice was sounding desperate. He hated himself for being so pathetic, but not enough to just leave it.

“Oh for Merlin’s sake. I’m going to take a walk along the beach. There’s nobody for miles.”

“But–“

“And none of your bloody tracking spells.”

“Please, Severus. Just… just one?”

He knew he was begging, but he couldn’t stop himself. Snape was glaring at him, while Fen and Murdo sat watching them both. Even the dogs could sense the tension between the two men. Finally, Snape sighed.

“Alright. Just one. One.”

Moody let out his breath in relief and thought for a moment before deciding on _Monere_. The thought of Snape out walking with only one charm protecting him made Moody’s stomach churn, but _Monere_ was reliable and would alert him immediately if there was any danger.

“Finished?” Snape said, and Moody nodded.

Snape said nothing further, just pushed past Moody and continued down the path. Realising that he wasn’t following, Fen and Murdo glanced up at Moody before looking at Snape. They’d never pass up the chance to take a walk, and possibly find something dead and rotten on the beach to roll in.

“Go on then,” Moody said, and the two dogs trotted after Snape.

Moody had a faint smile on his face as he held his wand and murmured a few quiet incantations. Snape had never said he couldn’t cast tracking spells on the dogs.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are references to events in the first fic of this series, Wounded Soldiers, so it may not entirely make sense if you haven't read that one.
> 
> All recognisable characters are the property of JKR, of course. No profit is involved, this is just for my own, and hopefully your, amusement.

It was nearly two hours before Snape returned from his walk. Moody had made several cups of tea, most of which hadn’t been drunk, picked up half a dozen books which Snape had left lying around and returned them to the bookcase, started writing a letter to his sister-in-law in Oban, attempted to draw a shell he’d collected on the beach the previous week, flicked through a copy of The Magical Landscape of Lewis and Harris, and eaten half a packet of chocolate digestives.

When Snape finally arrived back, Moody was wound so tight he was close to snapping. Snape took one look at his face and retreated to the bedroom without a word. Moody followed, determined not to let Snape out of his sight even if Snape didn’t want to speak to him.

“What in the name of Merlin are you doing, Severus?”

Snape had begun pulling clothing from drawers as soon as he’d got in the room. Snape’s clothing only, Moody noticed.

“What does it look like?”

Moody said nothing. It looked like Snape was packing to leave and Moody didn’t want to say it. Snape summoned several sets of identical black robes from the wardrobe and tossed them on the bed on top of a pile of underwear and pyjamas. He swept from the room, followed by Moody, and went to his lab where he summoned an old trunk he’d kept at Hogwarts. It was one of relatively few personal items he still owned. He then marched back to the bedroom, the trunk following, where he began to shove the clothing into it.

“Severus, why are you packing?” Moody asked, when it became apparent that Snape would offer no explanation.

The question seemed to startle Snape.

“I… I can’t do this… I can’t take it any more.”

“Severus, if this is about the spells on the dogs, I’m sorry. You never said I couldn’t, and… well you know I worry.”

Moody knew that his voice was sounding rather desperate, but couldn’t stop himself. Snape, though, just looked slightly confused. Moody realised that Snape probably hadn’t figured out that he’d put tracking charms on the dogs after all. In that case, he had no idea what he’d done to upset him so much.

“Severus, I’m not sure that I understand. I know that, well, I know I can be a bit paranoid, and I know that can get… frustrating for you, but…”

Moody looked at the floor in front of him before raising his eyes to Snape’s face again.

“It’s only because I care about you. I worry about you, Severus, and I don’t want to lose you.”

Snaoe was silent, looking at Moody before shifting his gaze to stare out the window.

“I know that,” he said, his voice quiet and sad. “And this isn’t your fault. I knew what you were like and I thought I could deal with it. I thought just having you care about me would be enough. But it isn’t.”

“Severus, what do you mean? I don’t understand.”

Snape dropped his head forward and was silent.

“Please, Severus. Please help me understand.”

“You can’t, you can’t give me what I want. It’s not reasonable of me to expect it, but… but… well, there it is. I… I want you, but… but I… I… I can’t share you. I thought I could, but I can’t.”

There was a catch in Snape’s voice as he spoke. Moody took a deep breath. Snape’s explanation made little sense.

“Share me? How do you mean? Is this about my family? You don’t have to see them again if you don’t want to.”

Snape had agreed to meet Miona and Uilleam only once. The four of them had drunk tea in the kitchen. Both Snape and Uilleam, who had a stutter and never spoke around strangers, had sat in silence while Moody and Miona had attempted to engage them in a rather stilted conversation about the farm, fishing and the vegetable garden that Snape and Moody were working on. 

“It’s not you family, you idiot,” Snape said through a clenched jaw. “I can’t stand it… to share you… sexually.”

Moody stared at him. Snape was still making no sense.

“What do you mean, share me sexually? You’re… I don’t understand you.”

“Don’t you fucking deny it, you bastard. You’re just making it worse. Do you really think I’m that stupid?”

Snape stood up and began throwing a few books into the trunk.

“Severus, I really don’t understand. Please, can you explain what I’ve done? Or what you think I’ve done.”

“Since you persist in insulting my intelligence by denying the obvious,” Snape hissed, “I’m talking about the Lupins. More specifically, you fucking them.”

“Severus, that was years ago and certainly not when they were together. I’m not fucking the Lupins now. What on earth would make you say that?”

“That’s thestral shit and you know it. Why else did you visit them? What other reason would you have for going there?”

“They’re my friends, Severus. I fought two wars alongside Lupin and trained Tonks. And they invited you to come as well.”

“Your friends? You spent the whole time in hospital complaining about Lupin. And do you really think I’d want to join your sordid little soiree with the werewolf and his dim-witted paramour?”

“Tonks isn’t dim-witted. She’s–“

“Don’t change the subject. I’m not stupid.”

“No, you’re fucking insane.”

“STOP DENYING IT. DON’T FUCKING LIE TO ME.”

“I’M NOT LYING TO YOU, YOU MAD BASTARD.”

Snape had his wand out now, and Moody wondered if he was going to get cursed. He pulled out his own wand, just to be safe.

“I’M NOT MAD.”

“YOU’RE BLOODY PARANOID, YOU’RE MORE PARANOID THAN I AM. YOU’RE OFF YOUR HEAD.”

‘AND YOU’RE A FUCKING LIAR. YOU CAN’T KEEP YOUR FUCKING COCK IN YOUR PANTS AND YOU CAN’T EVEN FUCKING ADMIT IT.”

Moody felt a wave of rage wash over him and he grabbed the front of Snape’s robe.

“I’M NOT LYING TO YOU, YOU STUBBORN GIT. WHY CAN’T YOU GET THAT INTO YOUR STUPID, THICK SKULL?”

Snape jerked back from Moody, and for a moment there was fear in his eyes, before the angry mask was back. Moody let go of his robe, and he fell, scuttling away to huddle in the corner with a glare on his face.

Moody screamed a few choice obscenities then turned and punched the wall, before stumping from the room with a throbbing hand.

He had the bottle of firewhisky out of the cupboard and lifted to his lips before he realised what he was doing.

“ _Alastor Moody_ ,” said a voice inside his head, “ _You are not your faither_.”

He put the bottle down and leaned his hands on the bench, giving a heavy sigh. He’d hoped, for some years after her death, that Beathag would come back as a ghost and haunt him. At least that way he’d get to speak to her. That had never happened, but he had discovered that his conscience had developed a strong Hebridean accent and sometimes swore at him in Gaelic.

The reminder that he was not his father had not made a frequent appearance when Beathag was alive, but when it did, he knew to take notice. He’d always had a temper and Beathag had tolerated no disrespect, so they’d yelled at each other fairly regularly throughout their marriage. Usually he was apologising and they were making up within minutes – always a satisfying event – but on occasion he had lost control. A few times he’d thrown things or grabbed Beathag, and at one horrible time well before they were married he had hit her, a hard slap across the face.

She’d stared at him in shock before pulliing out her wand and pointing it at him. He’d stared back, equally shocked, before turning and running from the room.

“YOU COME BACK HERE, ALASTOR MOODY,” she’d shouted at him. “YOU DO NOT GET TO DO THAT AND THEN RUN AWAY LIKE A COWARD.”

Moody had slunk back into the room, looking at the floor, thoroughly ashamed of himself. He’d never wanted to be the kind of man who treated women – or children – like that, but he’d always feared that was what he’d become. Now, it seemed his fears were coming true, and he knew that a woman like Beathag would never put up with it. Unlike his mother.

“I’m sorry,” he'd mumbled, knowing how inadequate it sounded.

“I should bloody well hope so. What makes you think that kind of thing’s alright? Is this your idea of how a man should treat a woman?”

“No, no… it’s not… I never…”

“So what the hell did you think you were doing?”

Moody had hung his head in shame.

“I wasn’t. I wasn’t thinking. It just… happened.”

“It just happened, did it? Just came from nowhere? You suddenly decided that hitting me is okay?”

Moody shook his head. He’d never spoken much about his home life to Beathag, and it wasn’t an excuse anyway.

“Alastor?”

Her voice had become gentle and she’d reached out and taken his hand.

“Al, tell me what’s in your head right now.”

He’d done as she said, of course. He always did. He’d told her about his father and how he’d treated his wife and children. He’d mostly kept himself calm, but then he’d cried when he told her how afraid he was of turning out to be just the same.

He expected her to end things with him once she’d heard that. Why would she want a man who might hit her, who might turn into a monster, who, if they ever had children, might beat them into submission?

“Alastor Moody,” she’d said in a gentle voice, “you are not your faither. I can see that. I know you are a good man. And the fact that you don’t want to turn out like him is the first step to making sure you don’t.”

Instead of walking away, Beathag had helped him. With her by his side, he’d become the kind of husband and father he’d wanted to be. She’d stood by him when things were difficult – when he was difficult – but she’d never allowed him to make excuses or avoid responsibility for his mistakes. Even when she’d died, leaving him with two heartbroken little girls who were desperate for their _Mamag_ , he’d been able to keep going. He’d raised his girls alone and the fact that Miona still wanted his company – and wanted her children to spend time with him – said he couldn’t have done too bad a job.

He knew she wouldn’t have entirely approved of how he’d lived his life. She’s always been kinder and more forgiving than he had, for all the good it had done her, and she would never had agreed with his vengeful attitude to dark wizards and witches. She certainly wouldn’t have been happy that he’d stayed away from ever getting close to anyone after her death, opting for sex free of any emotional connection rather than risk losing someone again.

Until Snape, of course. Although he hated to admit it, he had become far more attached to the difficult bastard then he’d ever expected. He hadn’t felt this way about anyone since Beathag. But this time, he had found himself with someone damaged as he.

“More damaged,” his conscience said. “You had the love of Beathag. Has anyone ever loved Severus?”

Moody knew that the voice in his head was right. Snape had spoken little of his childhood, but the glimpses that he’d unintentionally given Moody suggested that it had been as bleak as his. Perhaps worse, since Moody at least hadn’t had to contend with grinding poverty. His comments about meals of bread and margarine and ignorance of basic magical hygeine suggested a mother who’d given him little attention. He’d made no reference to his father, and Moody had concluded he’d either been absent or so bad that Snape couldn’t even bear to refer to him.

It was certainly clear that Snape had little experience of love or care as an adult. He’d never had someone like Beathag to teach him what it was like to be loved. But it was more than that, Moody thought. Beathag had taught him how he should treat her, as well as how he should expect to be treated. She had made him communicate when he wanted to bottle everything up inside, and had calmed him down when he was angry, afraid or confused. She’d been his beacon, his harbour and his anchor. Even now, dead forty years, her light guided him.

Moody looked down at the firewhiskey bottle in front of him. Beathag would not have stormed off and got drunk when he was being difficult. She might have given him a bit of space, but then she’d go back to him, kind and patient, and they would talk. Perhaps she’d have brought a cup of tea for him, a small gesture to remind him that she would always care for him when he needed it.

He tapped his wand to the kettle and summoned the teapot, tea, milk and sugar. When the tea was brewing, he got two cups and splashed milk into his and an unhealthy amount of sugar into Snape’s. The activity calmed him and he found himself able to think more clearly. And then he realised that he was a complete idiot.

What reason did Snape have for thinking Moody wouldn’t be off having sex with the Lupins or anyone else willing? Moody had flirted frequently with Tonks and nearly as much with her husband when he was at the hospital. It went back before that too. He’d flirted with both of them at Order meetings as well, as well as Molly Weasley and Sirius Black. Actually, he’d even slept with Black a few times after that awful year he’d spent crammed in a trunk. Lupin wasn’t entirely comfortable with that but both Moody and Black had been miserable and it gave them both comfort.

All that Snape knew told him that Moody didn’t have a faithful bone in his body. He had every reason to assume that Moody would continue as he had before. The only surprise was that he hadn’t mentioned it earlier. Moody had visited the Lupins nearly three weeks ago and Snape had said nothing. But, now he thought about it, that was about the time that Snape had become intolerant of Moody putting the tracking spells on him.

Moody turned back to the firewhiskey bottle and picked it up. He splashed a bit in each teacup, thinking that the conversation they were about to have might need some fortification. They were both idiots, but Snape was undoubtedly worse. That meant that if their relationship was going to work, Moody needed to be the strong and sensible one. Merlin help them both.

“Severus,” Moody said softly as he walked back into the bedroom, levitating the two cups of firewhiskey-laced tea. Snape was still sitting in the corner with his arms around his knees. His eyes looked blank and Moody knew he was practicing occlumency. It was one of the ways that Snape tried to calm himself when upset.

“Severus, I’m sorry I shouted and swore at you, and I’m sorry I grabbed you as well. I shouldn’t have done that, it wasn’t alright.”

Snape didn’t respond and Moody wondered whether he had heard. His eyes were still blank but his jaw was tight. It looked more like he was trying to ignore Moody than unaware of his presence.

“I’ve made you tea, Severus. How about you get up of the floor. It’s a bit awkward for me to get down there and we really need to talk.”

Moody moved closer and ran his hand over the top of Snape’s head.

“Come on now, Severus.”

Snape sighed and looked up. Moody set the cups down on the bedside table and offered Snape his hand. After giving a suspicious look, Snape took the offered hand and got to his feet.

“Here, sit on the bed.”

Moody led him over then handed him the tea once he’d sat down. Snape took a mouthful and began to cough.

“Sorry, might have been a bit heavy on the firewhiskey.”

Moody sat beside him and took a sip from his own cup. He opened his mouth to speak, but thought better of it and took another mothful of tea instead.

“Severus…”

Snape was staring down at his tea.

“Severus, did you hear what I said before. I’m sorry about shouting and swearing and grabbing you. I was wrong and I apologise.”

Moody paused, hoping to see some sign of expression on Snape’s face. When there was nothing, he continued.

“It was also wrong of me to call you paranoid and mad, and… off your head… um… well all that.”

Snape swallowed another mouthful of tea, grimaced, then returned to looking down at his cup.

“I realise… well, I realise I’ve given you no reason to think I would be faithful to you. You’ve never known me to be anything but… well, you know…”

Moody looked down at his own tea and realised he could do with more too. He took a couple of sips.

“It’s my fault.”

The words were mumbled and Snape didn’t look at Moody as he finally spoke.

“Severus, what do you mean?”

“It’s my fault. I…”

Snape sighed and Moody slipped an arm around his shoulders. He wasn’t sure that Snape wanted the contact, but he looked in desperate need of a hug.

“Severus, you were saying that before, and I didn’t follow you. But this isn’t your fault. I should have explained to you.”

Snape looked up at that, a faint frown on his face.

“I… what do you mean?”

“I know you’ve always known me as, well, you know. But I was married once, Severus. Do you think Beathag would have tolerated me… straying?”

Snape was back to looking at his tea.

“When I was with her, I never even thought about being with anyone else. She was my first, Severus, my first and only for as long as she was alive, and for some time after. After that, I didn’t feel like getting close to anyone again. I don’t even know how I ended up being… well… I can’t say it wasn’t fun, but… but now…”

Moody squeezed Snape’s shoulder.

“I don’t want to be with anyone but you, Severus. I’m sorry that I didn’t make that clear to you.”

“But…”

Snape looked up.

“But…” he said again. “The werewolf and his wife…”

“I didn’t have sex with them, Severus. And I won’t. And the Weasleys don’t need any more refresher courses. They’ve got seven children, for Merlin’s sake. I’m sure they can manage on their own.”

Severus had begun to blush.

“But, why? Why me?”

“Because you are you, Severus. You’re brave and stubborn and very, very funny. And sexy. You’re hot as Hell, you know. And I love the way you shift from being buttoned up to blushing, then you go all shy and awkward, but when you finally let go you are so utterly shameless.”

Severus was scarlet now, his face, his ears, his neck – as much of it as Moody could see. He was looking down again too, so Moody put his tea down and touched the burning skin, turning Snape’s face towards him. He leaned forwards and kissed him, softly, gently, until he felt some of the tension leave.

“You know, it’s been a very long time since I felt like this, Severus,” he said. “I think that what we have is something special. I can’t believe I missed how amazing you are for so long because I was such a stubborn bastard about your past. So I’m trying very hard not to muck things up with you now. But you need to try as well.”

“What do you mean?”

“If something’s bothing you, for Merlin’s sake, just talk to me. Just ask. Don’t just bottle it up inside.”

Moody gestured towards the half packed trunk.

“You were planning to leave me. Over something you imagined I’d done. Without even knowing if it was true.”

Snape looked down again and his shoulders slumped.

“I assume you’re not still planning to leave?”

Snape looked up again.

“No… no, I’m not. I don’t want to go. I want to be here with you, Alastor.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” Moody said, with a grin. “I’d hate to think I bared my heart to you for nothing.”

That prompted the fainted hint of a smirk on Snape’s face.

“It’s getting close to dinner time. How about I go and make something, and you unpack your things and put the trunk back in your lab?”

Snape rose and turned to Moody, offering his hand.

“That would be acceptable, Alastor.”


	4. Chapter 4

Snape was pretending he wasn’t anxious, but was failing miserably. He’d been reading the latest issue of _The Practical Potioneer_ , red quill in hand, but had scribbled very little on it even though he was halfway through. That was a sure sign he hadn’t been concentrating on what he read. He’d paced around the sitting room, Murdo watching from the couch while Fen joined him in his pacing. He’d interrupted Moody several times to check progress on the drawing of bog asphodel that he was attempting. He hadn’t thought of drawing flowers before, but Snape’s interest in the local flora had encouraged him to try. Snape, of course, was more interested in what he could brew from the plants, but they’d casually been discussing producing a book together on the local plants and their uses.

“Tea, Alastor?”

“That would be lovely, thank you, Severus.”

Snape paused at the doorway so that Moody could cast a monitoring spell. He could get by casting only one if Snape wasn’t out of the room too long. He returned to his bog asphodel, wondering if he could do an outline coloured with watercolour. He’d been drawing since he’d been in hospital – the least offensive activity the healers had suggested to strengthen the motor control in his regrown arm and hand – but had only just begun painting. Miona had given him a watercolour set for his birthday.

Snape returned with his tea and removed the monitoring spell from himself. He’d become much more tolerant again, after their discussion a couple of weeks back. Things had largely returned to how they had been, with lots of sex and sarcasm, but still Snape revealing little of himself. He was obviously still insecure, but he had agreed to come to dinner with Moody when he went to Miona’s tonight. Moody counted that a small miracle, especially as his favourite sister-in-law would be visiting. Doilag had been the one to help him after Beathag’s death and they had remained friends. He wondered what she would make of Snape.

Moody picked up his tea and turned to look at Snape sitting on the edge of the sofa.

“It will be alright, you know,” Moody said. “Tonight. You’ll be fine.”

Snape looked up.

“I don’t want them to hate me.”

“They won’t, Severus. They’re not like that.”

Snape looked unconvinced.

“Look, Severus, even if they do hate you, which they won’t, it doesn’t matter. They don’t have to live with you and you don’t have to live with them. If you all decide that you hate each other, we can just go back to you hiding in your lab when they visit.”

Moody reached out and Snape walked over, allowing an arm around his waist. He pulled Snape down so he was sitting in his lap, weight on Moody’s good leg.

“It’s just… sometimes when I’m… if I feel uncomfortable I get more…”

Snape sighed.

“Sarcastic? Rude? Obnoxious?” Moody asked, since Snape didn’t seem inclined to finish his sentence.

Snape nodded.

“You remember what I told you about Doilag, don’t you, Severus? That’s she’s even louder, crasser and more tactless than Beathag was. She’s turning seventy and still thinks fart jokes are hilarious. And Lorna’s lived with her more than forty years. It’s just not possible to offend her. Anyway, the only thing that matters to them is that you make me happy.”

Moody smiled and Snape gave a tentative smile back. He leaned in and gave Moody a kiss, before standing and beginning to pace again.

“I have a question.”

“Of course, Severus, what is it?”

“I see that you… you care about them, your family, Beathag’s family. Do you… do you worry about them? Do you need to put spells on them all the time so you know they are safe?”

Severus was avoiding Moody’s eyes, and Moody was grateful. He was sure that Snape would ask questions eventually, in fact it had taken him much longer than expected to ask just why he was so paranoid. Still, Moody wasn’t sure he was ready to answer. He didn’t know if he would ever be ready.

“Aye, sometimes. It’s not so bad as it was. Mostly just if… when… well, either they’re doing something unusual or… when I’m upset. You know how young Al went travelling?”

Snape nodded, still pacing and not looing at Moody.

“Well, he had to travel the whole way through Asia with a couple of charms on him, just to be sure he was alright. I couldn’t handle it otherwise.”

Snape’s pacing had slowed slightly and he was stealing glances at Moody. He didn’t say anything though. Moody was grateful. He’d have to explain why soon enough.

“During the height of the war, things were… I was quite… concerned. I had, I think, three or four spells or charms on each of them. Including Doilag and Lorna. I might have had more on Miona. The only times the spells ever warned of any danger was with Uilleam, because he’d go out fishing and the seas can be treacherous. Well, that and the grandkids falling off ponies. Never a sign of any dark magic near them. But I’d rather I annoyed them by being paranoid than…”

Snape had stopped now, and was looking at him. Moody gave him a hesitant smile.

“You want to know why, don’t you. I can see it, you want to ask why, but you don’t know if you should.”

Snape nodded.

“I don’t wish to pry, Alastor.”

“I know,” Moody said, rising to his feet and moving over to the sofa, flopping down beside Murdo. He put out his hand and Snape walked over and took it.

“Sit with me, Severus. It’s not… something I talk about often. But you should know.”

Snape sat next to him, thigh touching his, but very stiff. He wasn’t exactly a warm reassuring presence, but he was there. Moody gripped his hand tighter, then began to speak, his voice measured and calm.

“Beathag, she was an auror. Good one too. My father loathed her, but once he retired she did well. Put a fair few dark wizards in Azhaban. Not all got life sentences. One came after her when he was released. Revenge. He killed her.”

He was still calm. He took a breath and realised that he was holding Snape’s hand so tightly his knuckles were white. Snape showed no sign of pain, but that didn’t mean much. He loosened his grip but didn’t let go.

“Magaidh and Miona were only young, nine and five. I missed her so much, but it was worse seeing those little girls without their _Mamag_ …”

Now he felt his voice crack. He’d said more than he meant to already and he had still only told half of the story.

“If I hadn’t had Doilag and Lorna to help me, I don’t know what I would have done. We moved to Oban to be near them, and they looked after the girls when I couldn’t. Have you ever been to Oban? Lovely town, on a bay, looks across to Mull. Doilag and Lorna had lovely views from their flat. Amazing sunsets. They’re moved now as they’re both retired. They’re a bit further out of town, out by Loch Melford, in a bungalow with a small garden. Still have a lovely view though. Right by the sea.”

There, now he had himself back under control. Simple really. He didn’t really know why he’d worried so much. He risked a glance up at Snape. He was sitting stiffly, looking out the window. Moody was sure Snape would be as uncomfortable with displays of emotion as he was, and so wouldn’t ask awkward questions.

“The girls did alright, really, considering they had me for a father. Went to Beauxbatons, as I think I said. Thought it was safer to keep them a bit out of the way, and it’s a less… partisan school. Magaidh, she was older… had a lot of her mother in her. Wanted to be an auror. Didn’t want her to myself, not after… Well, I couldn’t stop her any more that I could stop Beathag doing something she wanted to.”

Moody paused, knowing he was heading back onto dangerous territory. He relaxed his grip on Snape’s hand again.

“She was only a few months out of training when… when she was killed. It wasn’t her fault. Carelessness from one of the more senior aurors she was working with. He should have known to be more careful with Dark Objects. Would not have happened on my watch. I should… I should have been there. I should have… I failed to… protect her.”

His voice caught again, and this time, to his horror, he felt his eyes fill with tears. He kept his eyes fixed on the floor and hoped Snape was still staring out the window.

“That was when… I became a little paranoid. Well, a lot paranoid. I’d… I worried about Moina, mostly. She came back from school after that. She didn’t want to be there. Had enough of the magical world. Didn’t even like me using magic at home. And I couldn’t… couldn’t let her out of my sight without… without putting about 10 spells on her. Even then, I… it was a… difficult time.”

It wasn’t getting easier to speak. A few tears had run down his face and his voice kept catching. But the worst was past. He’d said most of what needed to be said. He took a couple of breaths and realised that Snape’s hand had tightened around his, even though he was looking away. Moody squeezed his and back and continued.

“We got through it, eventually. Miona decided she’d go to a Muggle school, stayed with Doilag and Lorna. Found it a bit hard. Weird subjects they teach. Nothing very practical. But she got through enough. Then went and stayed with her grandparents. Decided she wanted to be crofter. Hard life, but she took to it. Found Uilliam. A good lad. Thoughtful. Steady. Thinks she’s wonderful. Which she is, of course. Had the children. Seems happy. She’d say if she wasn’t.”

Snape gave his hand another squeeze.

“That’s… that’s horrible,” he said.

“My daughter deciding to live as a muggle? Aye, it’s a tragedy. She was a bloody fine witch too.”

Snape didn’t answer for a moment. He glanced across and caught Moody’s eye. Moody gave him a weak half-smile.

“Trying to change the subject?” Snape asked.

“Aye, maybe. Don’t talk about them much.”

Snape nodded and returned the weak half smile.

“Do you want to see pictures? I had a picture of Beathag up when you arrived, but I put it away. Wasn’t sure if you’d… you know, might be a bit strange.”

Snape’s eyes widened for a moment, but then he nodded. Moody stood and walked across to a cabinet to retrieve a few pictures. They were packed away in a box at the back of a cupboard and he wasn’t sure what sort of mess he’d make summoning them. He returned and passed Snape a picture of Beathag with the girls, taken just before Miona started school.

“There they are, all together. That was at our house in London.”

He passed another picture.

“This was taken just after Magaidh was born.”

Beathag looked tired but always looked happy in that one. Moody held the next photo in his hand for a moment, somehow embarrassed to hand Snape a picture with himself in it. Beathag looked up at him with a soft smile while Moody gazed at his daughter in fascination as she grabbed his finger. Finally, he passed it to Snape.

“You look very young in that.”

Snape looked awkward, but reached out his hand for the next picture, which was Moody’s favourite one of Beathag, the one he’d had out when Snape first arrived, and then the next. That was one of the two girls taken just before Miona had started at Beauxbatons. Although looking at the photographer with an angelic smile, Magaigh’s hand suddenly appeared behind her sister’s head, making bunny ears.

“Always up to mischief, she was. Well, both of them.”

Moody couldn’t help smiling at the picture. Despite losing their mother, the girls were confident and strong, and perfectly happy to start an argument with their father if they disagreed with him. He remembered his pride at realising what that meant. As Beathag had said to him, he was not his father.

He passed one more picture across, although it was one which he sometimes found too painful even to look at. Magaidh wore the robes of an auror. The picture had been taken just after she had graduated from her training, and she looked so proud and happy. He passed the photograph across.

“That was taken a few months before she died.”

He swallowed before speaking again.

“You learn to live with it, but it never goes away. You are never the same.”

Snape glanced across at him then turned his face away.

“That’s true,” he replied.

Moody took the photographs back and began packing them into the box. There were plenty more, but he wasn’t sure if either of them could cope with that right now.

“I wouldn’t mind,” Snape said, hesitation in his voice, “if you… if you want to put some of their pictures up.”

“Are you sure, Severus?”

When Snape nodded in reply, Moody looked down at the box, and removed the picture of the two girls together and the one of Beathag on her own.

“Thank you.”

He set the two photographs aside and got up to put the box away.

“We should probably think about starting to get ready to go. I was thinking about having a bath first. Care to join me?”

Moody put out his hand to Snape, who looked away and didn’t move.

“I’m not fond of baths,” he said, his voice tight.

“You sure? Not even with me? There’s plenty of room for two.”

Snape kept avoiding Moody’s eyes and gave a shake of his head.

“That’s alright. Just thought you might enjoy it with company. But it’s not a problem. I can do some cleaning spells for you.”

Snape nodded as Moody backed off. He hadn’t tried mentioning baths or showers for a while, and hoped that maybe Snape woud have got past his aversion. Evidently not. He cast a couple of cleaning spells and then walked to the bathroom.

The bath was steaming gently and Moody had stripped naked and removed his artificial leg when he heard a tentative knock at the door.

“Alastor?”

Snape opened the door and stepped in, looking uncomfortably at the floor.

“What is it, Severus?”

“I was thinking…”

Moody was silent, balanced on the edge of the bath, waiting for Snape to finish what he was saying.

“Maybe… I could… join you after all.”

His voice was tentative, but Snape had walked into the bathroom and was fiddling with the buttons on his robe. It was closer to a bath than he’d ever come before.

“Of course, Severus.”

Moody summoned his leg and began to reattach it, but Snape stopped him.

“Just go ahead. It might… it might take a while.”

Moody put his leg back down and climbed into the bath. He settled back against the side, turning his head slightly to watch Snape undressing. He always enjoyed watching Snape change for bed, and Snape knew it, but this was different. Snape had turned his back and looked uncomfortable, and Moody almost felt guilty watching him. As he removed each garment, Snape neatly folded it and put it in a tidy pile beside the handbasin. Given that Snape usually discarded everything on the floor, Moody concluded he was trying to delay the evil moment when he got into the bath.

Finally, Snape was naked. He walked across the room and sat on the edge of the bath, giving Moody an awkward smile and looking as if he was reluctant to go further.

“Alastor…”

Moody reached out and put his wet hand over Snape’s dry one.

“Was it… it must have been… difficult to tell me… about Beathag and Magaidh.”

“Aye, Severus, it was. I hope I didn’t upset you.”

Snape frowned and looked Moody in the eye.

“No… no, of course not. I was… I’m grateful you told me. I… I never minded the spells anyway… makes me feel like you care… it was only, you know, when I was being a git about Lupin… when it bothered me. You can do all the monitoring spells you want.”

Moody squeezed his hand and shuffled closer. Snape might regret his offer when he found himself with about ten monitoring spells, tracking charms and other defences when he decided to walk down to the beach, but he appreciated the sentiment.

“It was just… you told me something difficult. I thought… I… I thought I should tell you something difficult too.”

Moody looked up at Snape and nodded. It hadn’t been his intention that Snape needed to reciprocate on sharing some of the more troubling aspects of his past, but he wasn’t surprised to find Snape viewed things that way. Nobody, he suspected, had ever done anything for Snape without expecting something back.

“Of course, Severus, but only if you want to.”

Snape reached his hand down to the water, then ran his fingertips across it, ruffling the surface. He took a deep breath, before swinging one leg over and putting his foot in.

“You may have noticed that I don’t like water,” he said, as he swung the other leg over.

Moody managed to restrain himself from making a comment about stating the obvious. He reached out to hold Snape’s hand. After waiting in silence for some time, Moody finally spoke.

“Do you want to tell me about that, Severus.”

Snape shook his head.

“It’s stupid. And embarrassing.”

He sat silently for a bit longer.

“Would you like to get in and join me, Severus? You might be more comfortable.”

Snape sighed. He began to move down into the water, hands gripping the side of the bath as if he was in danger of drowning. Finally, he was sitting fully in the bath, knees tucked up in front of him.

“That looks a bit awkward, Severus. Wriggle around and lean back against my chest.”

Moody leaned back, knees apart, as Snape moved to sit between his legs. He lay back cautiously, as if Moody might suddenly drop him or push him under. Moody wrapped both arms around his middle.

“How does that feel, Severus? Nice?”

“Tolerable, I suppose.”

Moody was tempted to smirk, but he wasn’t sure how serious Snape was. He still seemed very tense.

“You can relax, you know. You’re alright here. Safe. I’ve got you.”

His words seem to make Snape tense further. He shook his head, then drew in a ragged breath.

“When things were frightening at home,” he said quietly, “I would… have accidents. My… my father would scream at me for being filthy and disgusting… he would throw me in the bath… run the taps over me… over my face. It reminds me… having a bath, well, or a shower… reminds me of that. What a disgusting child I was.”

Moody felt his guts twist into a knot. It was one thing to pick up the subtle clues to Snape’s childhood experiences, but quite another to hear them stated. He had no idea what to do. He’d given a lot of thought to how he could explain about Magaidh and Beathag without losing control of himself, and quite a bit more hoping that Snape didn’t react in a way which made everything worse. But he hadn’t considered what might happen if Snape decided to share some secrets of his own. What would Snape want him to say? Would he want him to be matter-of-fact, accepting the information without any display of emotion, or would he want sympathy, for Moody to reassure him.

“I did grow out of it, of course,” Snape continued, defensiveness appearing in his voice. Moody realised that in his anxiety to say the right thing, he’d simply sat there in silence.

“Severus, that’s…”

Moody swallowed and let out a breath.

“Thank you for telling me that, Severus. I can see why bathing upsets you.”

Snaoe pushed himself up so he was leaning forward rather than lying back against Moody. He looked utterly miserable, and finally Moody’s brain decided to work again. It wasn’t the treatment by his father that Snape found upsetting to talk about, it wasn’t even whatever it was that had frightened him in the first place – alarming in itself that his home had been so frightening than it scared him into wetting or soiling himself – but the fact that Snape viewed himself as disgusting because of his accidents.

Moody pushed himself forward and rested a damp hand on Snape’s shoulder.

“Severus, what age were you?”

“Maybe seven when I grew out of it. Or eight.”

Snape’s voice still reflected his self-disgust.

“What was it that was frightening about your home, Severus?”

Snape gave a long sigh.

“Mostly my parents fighting. I was stupid to let it upset me. If I didn’t make a fuss or do something dumb like… you know, have an accident, they would just ignore me. So I just made everything worse for myself.”

“Severus, that doesn’t sound like your fault. You were just little.”

“I was old enough to know better.”

Snape clearly judged himself harshly for his behaviour as a frightened child. Moody had an idea where that had come from.

“Is that what your parents told you?”

There was silence, before Snape nodded slowly. Moody squeezed his shoulder again.

“This fighting, Severus, was it yelling, or was it… more physical?”

Snape’s body tensed.

“I don’t wish to talk about it any more,” Snape said, a tone of finality in his voice. He had his hands on the side of the bath, as if he was about to get up.

“Of course, Severus,” Moody replied, in a deliberately calm tone. “How about you just lie back against me. If you want to take your mind off things, I’m sure I can find a way. Or we can just relax here together.”

Snape turned his head slightly, peering at Moody through his hair. He looked worried, as if he expected Moody to judge him as unkindly as he judged himself. Moody lifted one hand and moved the hair away from his face, tucking it behind one ear. He leaned forward and placed a kiss on Snape’s forehead, before tilting his chin up and kissing him on the lips. Moody wrapped one arm around Snape’s shoulders and pulled him closer.

Snape gave a soft whimper and was suddenly kissing Moody back, urgently, deperately. He grabbed at Moody, catching him around the waist, clutching their bodies together, twisting around and splashing water as he brought himself in closer. Moody steadied himself with one hand on the side of the bath and one hand around Snape, kissing him back with equal intensity.

When the desperation seemed to lessen, Moody pulled back a little.

“Here, Severus, I’ll lie back against the side and you lie against me.”

Moody laid back, pulling Snape with him. They began to kiss more slowly and Moody felt the tense body in his arms begin to finally relax. He wondered whether Snape wanted to take things further or just lie there. Moody was definitely a little aroused – how could he not be with a naked Snape in his arms – but he thought it was up to Snape to initiate anything this time.

Eventually, the hand which rested against Moody’s chest began to move. It slid down, fingers brushing against the skin, teasing at the nipple before moving lower. Moody loosened his grip on Snape’s waist and began to stroke his back, over the bumps of his vertebrae, to rest on the flat at the base of his spine. Snape’s hips pushed back and he moaned.

“Want more do you?” Moody said, drawing their lips apart.

Snape glanced away but then looked back, meeting Moody’s eyes. He gave a slow nod and licked his lips.

“I want… I need you… I need you to fuck me until I forget my own name.”

“Oh, I’m sure I can manage that,” Moody growled, leaning in to give Snape another kiss, before grasping his hips and turning him so that his back was against Moody’s chest. Moody began to nibble and suck at Snape’s neck as his hands roamed across Snape’s body. One hand slipped down between Snape’s thighs and Moody savoured the soft sounds from Snape’s lips, the gasps, the moans, the whimpers. He was on solid ground now, none of the anxiety which came from the earlier exchange of emotion. Driving Snape to the edge of ecstacy, and then over, now that Moody could manage.

Moody brought him close and then retreated, time and again, while Snape writhed in his arms. He prepared him meticulously, ignoring the moans of “more, more” and the way Snape pushed back against his fingers. He brushed against the prostate and then whispered “patience” in Snape’s ear when he begged to be fucked fast and hard.

Finally, he summoned more lubricant and slicked it on his engorged erection. Snape’s body twisting against him had been driving him wild, and he knew he couldn’t handle any longer without being buried in Snape’s tight hole. He slid his hands under Snape’s thighs to lift him, and murmured to him.

“What do you want, my darling?”

Snape’s head was thrown back against Moody’s shoulder. He opened his mouth, panting and groaning, but apparently incapable of speech.

“What was that, Severus? What do you want?”

The sound from Snape’s lips is no more coherent than the last. Moody’s lips brushed Snape’s ear as he whispered again.

“Do you want my cock in your arse? Because I know I do. My enormous cock, so hard for you, it wants to enter you, it wants to be inside you, so deep inside you. So does your arse want my cock deep inside?”

“Y… y… yesss…”

That was all that Moody needed to hear. He grasped his cock, his other hand guiding Snape’s body until the swollen head nudged Snape’s hole. Slowly, very slowly, he lowered Snape down, feeling the pressure on his prick as he breached the tight ring, so, so slowly.

“Mmm… more…”

Snape writhed and twisted, but Moody’s hand was secure under his thigh, lowering him steadily.

“In good time, Severus. I want you to feel every… last… inch… ahhh…”

Snape clenched against him and Moody nearly lost his grip at the sensation.

“Oh… oh Merlin you feel so good, Sev.”

Snape arched his back, his head thrown back against Moody’s shoulder, his arse taking Moody’s full length.

“So good, Al, so good.”

He turned his head to the side, mouthing at Moody’s neck before Moody turned to meet his lips with his own. The kiss was urgent but brief, as Snape broke away to push himself up, Moody sliding out of him before Snape let go and took Moody’s hardness in again. Moody slipped one arm around Snape’s waist and steadied himself against the side of the bath as Snape rose up and sank down, his movements still at the languid pace Moody had set.

Moody was so close already, but he held himself back since Snape had decided to go slowly. He drew slow breaths and listened to the sound of the water sloshing around the bath until he noticed Snape’s hand moving to his groin.

“Allow me,” he whispered in Snape’s ear, as he pushed the hand away and closed his own hand around Snape’s engorged erection. With fingers still slicked from preparing Snape’s hole, he slid down to the base and then up to the purpled head.

“Ahhh, Al, more… need more… your cock… deeper, harder… ahhh, yes, yes…”

Moody took the cue and began to thrust upwards, driving his prick in harder and faster. Snape was braced against him, back arching, breath coming in desperate gasps, the occasional moan of “yes” turning into incoherent moans. Moody was vaguely aware of water splashing around them but with Snape’s whimpers of pleasure in his ears, nothing else seemed to matter. Then his cock was clenched in tightness as a choked cry escaped Snape’s lips and his cock pulsed under Moody’s fingers. Moody let out a cry of his own as the wave crashed through him and the evidence of his ecstacy spurted deep into Snape’s arse.

Snape sank back against him, still moaning incoherently.

“What’s that, love? Forgotten how to speak?” Moody murmured.

Snape sighed and Moody realised his eyes were closed.

“So you did enjoy the bath then?”

Snape nodded and then sighed, turning his head and burying his face in Moody’s neck.

“Hmmmm,” was his response.

Moody wrapped both arms around him and let his cheek rest against Snape’s ear. He loved the way that Snape was after sex, his body relaxed in a way it never was at any other time, even in sleep. After sex, Severus Snape _snuggled_. It made Moody feel soft and strange inside in a way he hadn’t in years. Not since… oh, fuck.

Moody knew he’d tensed up when Snape looked up at him through half-closed eyes.

“Alright?” Snape asked.

Moody opened his mouth to say the words, then stopped. Perhaps now wasn’t the time. He had no idea how Snape would react, and they needed to get ready to go to Miona’s house.

“We should probably get a move on, Severus.”

Snape gave a sigh, then began to get up. He pushed himself up until he stood in the bath, dripping water and, Moody noticed, a sticky mess of semen and lubricant down the inside of his thighs.

“I was given to understand the purpose of bathing was to make oneself cleaner,” Snape said, an accusing stare at Moody.

“Aye, that is the general idea, but…”

Moody shrugged and reached for his wand.

“That’s why we have cleaning spells.”

Snape insisted on dressing in his usual robes, despite Moody’s reminder that they were visiting a Muggle home. Moody knew Doilag would make some unhelpful comment about it, but that was unavoidable. The best he could hope for was that Lorna would shut her up before she said anything too dreadful. And that Severus wouldn’t say something awful back.

The evening was almost windless – a truly rare event – so they decided to walk. Or rather, Moody suggested that they walk and Snape didn’t object too strongly. Fen and Murdo ran ahead once they realised where they were going and Moody took Snape’s hand as they ambled along the track. Snape allowed it until they were almost at the house, before he pulled his hand back and put a scowl on his face. They spoke very little. The silence was a little tense – no doubt Snape was worrying about the evening to come and Moody was mulling over the realisation he’d had in the bath.

When Moody had left the hospital, leaving Snape with a portkey to his cottage, he’d hoped the man would come, but he wouldn’t have been devastated if he hadn’t. Disappointed, definitely, sad, probably, but it wouldn’t have brought his world crashing down.

But something had happened since Snape had arrived. Now he thought about it, Moody suspected it had started on that very first day, seeing the former spy standing in the sitting room, uncertain of his welcome, unmistakably nervous, but with hope in his eyes. The man who was legendary for concealing his emotions, his alliegances, everything really, had stood in the sitting room with his soul bared. In response, Moody’s own defences, built to protect his heart after losing Beathag and then Magaidh, had collapsed. He had begun to fall in love.

Now he’d had time to think about it, the idea frightened him less than he’d expected when he’d first realised it. Yes, there was that horrible gnawing anxiety that something terrible would happen to Snape, but he didn’t fear the relationship itself. They were both, he recognised, difficult men, prickly as the gorse that grew over the hills around the cottage, tougher than the gulls that squabbled and scavenged on the shore. They were both scarred, literally and figuratively, with Snape’s scars deep and still very raw. He needed a lot of care and healing, if only Moody could get him to accept it. It wouldn’t be entirely one way, though, that much was clear. Moody smiled at the memory of Snape’s reaction when he’d seen the chafing that sometimes occurred on Moody’s stump when he walked too far. Snape had stormed off to his lab, returning hours later to shove a jar of salve at Moody, with the snapped instruction to “use that instead of the rubbish that they brew at St Mungo’s”. Moody admitted that his leg had never felt so good.

As he raised his hand to knock on Miona’s door, Moody slipped his arm around Snape’s waist.

“You ready for this?” he asked.

Snape turned to him and glared.

“What do you think?”

“I think you look like you’re about to face a gathering of Death Eaters.”

Snape gave a derisive snort.

“I’d rather face a gathering of Death Eaters. At least it doesn’t matter if they despise me.”

Moody chuckled as the door opened.

“They’ll love you, Severus. It doesn’t matter what you say or do. They’ll love you because I love you and you make me happy.”

Miona opened the door wide to pull her father into a hug, catching Snape in it as well, since Moody still had one arm around him. Doilag stood right behind, nosy cow that she was, eyes flicking up and down and then across to where her partner sat on a tatty sofa.

“Hell’s bells, Lorna,” she said, “He’s found himself someone weirder than he is.”

“ _Duin do gobh_ , Doilag,” Lorna replied, rolling her eyes. “Give the poor man a chance to get in the house.” 

As the stepped through the door, Miona’s youngest ran up, staring at Snape wide-eyed, before turning and running back to her eldest brother.

“Granda’s boyfriend’s a vampire,” she said, in a very audible whisper.

Snape seemed frozen to the spot, oblivious to everything going on around him as he stared at Moody with his mouth slightly open.

“What did you say, Alastor?” Snape hissed.

Then Fen and Murdo were pushing behind them to get through the door and Snape took an involuntary step further into the room. Miona gave him a smile and took his arm.

“Let’s get you a drink, Severus,” she said. “You look like you need it.”

Moody released him and let Snape stumble along beside Miona, who shoved a generous glass of whiskey into his hand. He gulped half of his drink, and gave Moody a panicked look as Doilag began firing questions at him and the younger children crowded around.

Moody gave what he hoped was an encouraging smile and Snape seemed to pull himself together.

“Alastor,” he said in a voice that would have brought a class of unruly Griffindors to heel, “are _all_ of your relatives unfamiliar with the concept of personal space?”

Doilag and the children fell back, startled, and there was a moment of silence before Lorna burst into loud laughter. Doilag quickly followed, and Uilleam and Miona then the children joined in. Moody gave a sigh of relief. Snape would be just fine.

**Author's Note:**

> It may take a few weeks for the other chapters.


End file.
